


One Last Thing Right

by danceswithhamsters01



Series: Reddit Prompts [99]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Character Death, Dragon Age: Origins Quest - The Battle of Denerim, Gen, Loghain POV, One Shot, Ultimate Sacrifice, Warden Loghain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:15:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25203046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceswithhamsters01/pseuds/danceswithhamsters01
Summary: Based on a prompt from r/dragonage.Inspired by: Prompt 5:  Hurt/Comfort "People are dying because of me!"A look at the Battle of Denerim from the PoV of Warden!Loghain.
Relationships: Zevran Arainai/Female Warden (Background)
Series: Reddit Prompts [99]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1153856
Kudos: 2





	One Last Thing Right

Flames licked at buildings, sending smoke skyward to add yet another note of despair to smother the city like a thick blanket. Screams of fear, horror, and rage rang in the ears of all present until they drowned out nearly everything else. It had been one thing to see the great horde in Ostagar, but now, not only could he see and hear them, but he could _feel_ them in his mind. The sensation reminded him of wading in water and feeling something slimy and questionable slithering against his feet. Only… this wasn’t an eel. This was a horde of darkspawn, laying waste to his homeland; the land he’d sacrificed so much to protect.

He flicked his eyes to the side and caught sight of Cousland’s fiery green eyes narrowed at him, radiating equal parts cold rage and vindication. The eerie blue glow that emanated from them like fire did nothing to reassure him. She wiped the blood off her daggers on the ragged leather armor of a genlock before stalking over to him.

“Now do you believe me, _Warden_ MacTir?” she hissed. “We need to get a move on!”

“Your eyes, Warden, they’re--”

She snorted and jammed the daggers into their sheaths before replying. “Yes, they do that. If you had a mirror, you’d find that yours are doing it, too. It happens when a Joined Warden is in proximity to darkspawn. Move!”

He only paused for a single heartbeat’s worth of time to watch Cousland stomp away after yelling orders that got relayed and called out again by other members of the army. He also witnessed the brief moment of her and the blond elf, the assassin Howe had hired all those months ago, sharing a reassuring squeeze of hands before returning to their hurried march to Denerim’s gates. Taking a deep breath, Warden MacTir sheathed his blade and joined the march.

_So much devastation. Maker, let this day be the end of it._

They made their way into the city at the head of the army. It was like two great waves crashing against each other in the ocean. Only, one wave was made of twisted monsters that had erupted from the bowels of the world, and the other was a blend of man, elf, and dwarf, with the occasional robed mage or lumbering golem speckled here and there. The clang of weapon meeting weapon, the hissing of spell-made bolts flying by, and the stomping and roars of the golems before they smashed one of the endless hordes of darkspawn threatened to overwhelm his senses. It was all the once-general could do to block them out and listen to the new urge that burned in his blood, demanding that he do away with as many of the blighted monsters as he could, like a wolf compelled to hunt by the hunger in its belly. Eventually, the wave he was a part of crested and overcame the force at the city’s gates. He pushed down the part of himself that wanted to howl in rage at the destruction the kingdom’s capital had suffered. Instead, he forced himself to focus on the words of the Orelsian Grey Warden who had managed to get past the closed borders.

A small force of the Warden and three others were to make their way to Fort Drakon, in hopes of luring the archdemon there. The rest of the army would remain at the gates of the city to defend. He was not taken aback when Cousland selected him as one of the three to accompany her. Gazing out on the army while the others said their farewells to the Grey Warden, he noticed far fewer soldiers than he would’ve liked to be present for the retaking of Ferelden’s capital city. _So many have died in this war. Would we have had more forces available to us today if not for what I’d done?_ He shook off the uncomfortable feeling. There was no use in drowning in regret, not when even more lives hung in the balance.

Loghain spared a quick glance toward the banners that bore the royal arms, denoting where the Queen and her guards stood, one of many groupings in the eclectic army Coulsand and Maric’s bastard had assembled. He swallowed down a great mountain of worry and a small bit of pride. Anora had insisted on being part of the forces to liberate Denerim while her husband-to-be had declined to join his former comrades on the battlefield. Father and daughter had said their private goodbyes earlier that morning. A pair of blue eyes, much like his own, caught his gaze. She held a fist across her chest in salute. A ghost of a smile brushed his lips as he returned the gesture, then turned to catch up with Cousland and the others.

\---

His muscles screamed in agony, but still, he pressed on. He was covered in sweat, gore, char, and blood that he was uncertain if it was all from his foes or if some of his own had joined it. He’d thought the Cousland woman mad for opting to eliminate the darkspawn generals first. But now, he had to admit that her choice made some sense. Fighting the tainted dragon god **and** its generals at the same time would’ve been a fool’s errand. Fighting the fire-breathing beast itself was challenging enough.

The stones of the vast fort shook as the great beast’s legs failed and it fell to its belly. A pitiful roar left its maw, as if in denial. Once proud wings were mangled beyond repair, arrows protruded from many points of its body and one of its eyes. There was no way the dragon’s hind legs would ever bear its weight again, not with how thoroughly the golems had smashed its bones.

He panted as he picked himself up off the floor. Soon, it would all be over. All that remained was to deliver the deathblow. _And so, the end has come._

Cousland and her Antivan were huddled together when he approached them. From the look on the elf’s face, they’d been having a disagreement over something.

“So it is done,” he said, drawing the couple’s attention. “There’s no need for you to take the final blow. Allow me. Isn’t this why I’m here?”

“This is my duty as much as yours. We’re both Grey Wardens,” Cousland replied. The assassin furrowed his brows at the remark, clearly taking issue with it.

“Perhaps, but why should you be the one to die? You’re the reason this creature lies defeated, not I. My joining the Grey Wardens was a death sentence. If I survived the Joining, it seems only fitting that it can be because I was destined to perish here.”

“Determined to die a hero, you mean,” she shot back.

He snorted. “Do you think I will be remembered as a hero? I’m not so certain. If I can die a hero in service of Ferelden, then I do so gladly.” He could not hold back the note of pleading his voice held as he continued. “Please, I have done… so much wrong. Allow me to do one last thing right.”

The elf squeezed Cousland’s hand and gave her a silent pleading look. She relented. “As you wish, Loghain. For what it is worth, I salute you.”

Clearing his mind and taking a breath, he drew his blade and charged at the beast. As he thrust it into the archdemon’s skull, a small part of him thought of the act as a monster giving another monster a mercy killing before his senses were overwhelmed by the eruption of magic. And then nothingness claimed him.


End file.
